


Dinner

by gracefulblue



Series: It's Friendship [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, dadstiel, everyone's a huge star wars geek in this series, shmoop with a dash of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulblue/pseuds/gracefulblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met on a Thursday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner

They were already attached at the hips.

 

Emma stayed with Claire the entire day. They would play together, sit together, retrieve their lunch boxes and trade grape juice for apple (“because the apple juice box is  _ green _ , Emma,” was always Claire’s reason). Because of this cement-like bond, Dean was bound to meet Castiel at  _ some _ point.

 

They met on a Thursday.

 

Dean was late picking Emma up. He’d been up to his elbows in car guts, and the stupid alarm he’d set hadn’t gone off. He was late, and he was terrified.  _ What if she’s crying? _ Dean thought, grease-covered hands gripping the steering wheel.  _ What if she wandered off? What if she was kidnapped? What if she’s halfway across the state now?! _ Dean would’ve sprinted if the principle hadn’t been right there.

 

When he got to the classroom, he was fully prepared to have to soothe an inconsolable little girl or maybe even break out his marine tracking skills and go all Taken on a sorry son of a bitch.

 

What he found was Emma sitting at her table with Claire and who he assumed was Claire’s father, going through her newest coloring book (Strawberry Shortcake this time), and explaining, with her This Is Very Serious face, the difference between Gingersnap and Angel Cake.

 

Dean stood there, dumbfounded, until Miss Bradbury looked up and saw him standing there like the paranoid idiot he was. “Emma, your dad’s here,” she said.

 

Emma, Claire, and Claire’s dad all looked up. Naturally, Emma’s first reaction was to giggle at her dad’s expense.

 

“Daddy, you’re hands are all gunky!” 

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, falling easily into their game--this wasn’t the first time he’d left work without washing his hands. “Yeah?” He replied. “Not as gunky as  _ your _ hands, kid.”

 

This made Emma giggle again, as it always did. “No they aren’t!” She protested, running up to prove him wrong by holding out her perfectly gunk-free hands.

 

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, face starting to crack with a grin. “Here, Miss Smarty Pants,” he said, handing her the Clean Up Daddy’s Hands rag he always kept in his back pocket, “mind doin’ the honors?”

 

Once his hands were clean and Emma was situated in his arms, he finally looked up to see Claire and her dad still watching them. 

 

If his six-year-old daughter knew he was embarrassed and was trying to salvage the situation or not, he had no idea, but Emma took the opportunity to make introductions. “Daddy, that’s Claire’s daddy. She says he likes Han Solo best, too, and she doesn’t have a mommy either.”

 

The blush that was already burning his cheeks absolutely did  _ not _ creep down his neck and up to his ears, thank you very much. “Emma,” he said, voice stern, “you shouldn’t tell other people that kind of stuff.” He looked up at the other dad, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, man. Kids, y’know, don’t really have much in the way of a filter.”

 

The other dad smiled, now toting his own daughter and moving towards the door. “It’s alright. It’s not a secret, and I don’t want Claire to think it’s a secret. But, I understand.”

 

Dean nodded, looked down, looked back up, and held out his newly-cleaned hand. “I’m Dean Winchester.”

 

The other dad smiled, and gripped his hand in a shake.  _ Hm, hands are almost as soft as Lydia’s… _

 

“Castiel Novak,” he replied.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The girls wanted spaghetti, the kind Castiel made with his own tomato sauce. The adults, on the other hand, wanted something that didn’t leave quite as many stains. So, it was decided that pasta, chicken, and peas would make a suitable alternative.

 

Dean and Emma would be arriving soon, and Claire was bouncing off the walls. It was exciting, and Castiel couldn’t blame her one bit. After all the stress of the past three years, she deserved to be excited about something.

 

The biggest issue of the evening was what to wear. Claire wanted to wear her nicest dress, but also her green leggings, but  _ also _ her Wikket shirt, and she had to have the green bracelet, and the butterfly necklace, and “the nails with the white tips, Daddy, like on tv.” Eventually, she settled on the leggings, a Strawberry Shortcake shirt, and green nail polish. Castiel had to admit, he was getting pretty good at painting his little girl’s nails. 

 

When they arrived, Castiel let Claire open the door and welcome them inside. Emma was instantly glued to her hip, talking a mile a minute about one thing or another.

 

“Claire, isn’t there a certain little droid you’ve been wanting to show Emma?” He asked, sparing a wink at Dean.

 

Once they had moved to Claire’s room so she could show off her R2D2, Dean and Castiel settled down on the couch with a couple of beers. “A droid, huh? What are you, rebel scum?” Dean teased, green eyes twinkling.

 

“Of course,” Castiel replied, a single eyebrow arched. “Don’t tell me you’re part of the Empire?”

 

Dean snorted and shook his head. “Like hell I am. I’ll join the Dark Side when Han Solo pays off all his debt.” That earned him a laugh, something deep that came from Castiel’s belly.

 

They sat there, quiet, just looking at each other. Dean looked away first. “Y’know, I was so worried Emma would hate school. She’s such a shy kid, and when her mom left. . .well, this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a while.”

 

Castiel nodded, his own thoughts going to Amelia. “Did she. . .?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No. Kinda wish she had. No, she left. Couldn’t handle being a mother, I guess.  Emma had made this picture of her, Lydia, and we went to go get a frame for it, and when we got back from the store. . .” his face twisted with what Castiel recognized as old anger. “Didn’t even leave a note or anything.”

 

Castiel was quiet, head tilted in that way that he sometimes noticed Claire doing. He watched Dean’s shoulders bunch up, watched his face flush and his hands start to shake, and continued watching as the tension eventually faded away.

 

“My wife,” he started, voice low, “died in a car wreck. Claire would’ve, too, if she hadn’t swerved at the last second. Amelia was dead on impact, but Claire. . .I spent an entire week not knowing if my girl would make it.” He looked up at Dean. “And now look at them.”

 

Dean smiled. It made his face younger, laugh lines crinkling at the corners and eyes sparkling. Again, they were quiet, until Dean lifted his bottle in a toast. “Here’s hoping for a long lasting friendship.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Castiel said, tapping their bottles.

  
Castiel smiled more that night than any other in the past three years.

**Author's Note:**

> yo yo yo two ficlets in one day that's a new record. anyway. tell me if you liked it, share it with your friends, draw some fan art, send me suggestions over at [graceful-blue](http://graceful-blue.tumblr.com/), or just scream into the void, idk, you do what you gotta do booboo


End file.
